Resting Unpeacefully
by aylaa
Summary: Shakespeare's back and he's indignant!!


Shakespeare, his works and his name, do not belong to me. However, since Shakespear has been dead so long, doesn't this mean he's public domain? Hehe..   
  
www.fanfiction.net is copyright of the owner(s) of fanfiction.net (Xing?) (please please don't get offended by my mockery, it's all in fun, really!! and I don't have any money :( )  
  
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Does anyone remember the old saying 'If (name goes here) knew, they'd be rolling in their graves'? Well, a little known fact is that there is some truth to those words. Take for instance the grave of the great playwright William Shakespeare. Being dead for several centuries did not stop his body from moving around in unease. If you were to replace 'moving' from the last sentence with 'spinning', this would accurately describe the happenings inside the aforementioned writer's coffin.   
  
Having been spinning for so long, Willie S. often became disorientated and would hit the sides of his coffin. Sometimes, a bit of wood would become a little more worn, sometimes a lot more worn. Multiply the contact between his rigor mortis stiffened self and said coffin by five hundred years, and you'll find that the coffin no longer existed as a box, but rather as a pile of fine sawdust. 'S', furious at being disturbed from his rest (or state of unrest), found himself at the receiving end of six feet of dirt, being pushed down at the velocity of 9.8 m/s, courtesy of gravity. Any corpse would just take the indignities in stride, but Mr. Playwright had decided that he had reached his maximum threshold of tolerable suffering. Working slowly with hands that had been the subject to the torment of time, he slowly clawed himself out of his earthen prison. As he rose from the ground, the corpse let off an eerie laugh (and stench). Finally, he would be able to have sweet sweet revenge on those that had caused him an eternity (or at least a few decades) of suffering. W. Shakespeare walked off happily in search of the targets of his vengeance, leaving in his wake small stunned animals that had the bad fortune of smelling the effects of decomposition on a body.   
  
-  
  
The headquarters for fanfiction.net was located in a posh sector of the Los Angeles business region. Well-maintained shrubs lined the edges of the manicured lawns, and sprinklers generously dispersed their cargo over the latter. Inside the building, one of the employees noticed something was amiss. His own version of spidey senses demanding to be appeased, the lackey decided to take action. Poking his head over the cubicle, he looked his coworker, who was currently occupied with important business. Very 'important business'.  
  
"Psst" employee number one said to employee number two, trying to be discreet.  
  
The only reply that came from employee number two was "…".  
  
Employee number one, not deterred at all at the lack of response, began again, this time slightly louder. "Hey, stop fragging for a second and pay attention! Remember the last time you were caught playing Quake on the LAN?"   
  
Earning a groan and a glare from employee number two, the abuse of corporate bandwidth paused for a second. "Alright, what the hell do you want?" Employee number two asked, irritation coloring her words and projecting her obvious displeasure at being deprived of her addiction.  
  
"Well, something's not right here. First of all, do you notice that smell?"   
  
Employee number two considered the question. She did have a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, which was different from the one that came from playing Quake from hours on end. And yes, there was a faint aroma of something indescribably horrid, much like the smell of rotting eggs, your most hated relative and decomposing cabbage all mixed together. Employee number two nodded in agreement to her coworker's question.   
  
"You want to check it out? I mean, we're not getting paid enough to work like this." Employee number one asked his coworker.  
  
"Wait, don't you know that we're not getting paid at all?" Employee number two asked, puzzled by his lack of cognition.  
  
"What!! Oh damn, well, whatever, I guess today's my last day then." Employee number one replied cheerfully, or as cheerfully as someone could after finding out that they were volunteering. "Let's waste our time and find what's letting off that stench!"  
  
The two employees looked outside their respective cubicles to see whether the big cheese of the dot com company was around. Finding the area devoid of people, they snuck out of their job assigned prisons and started in their attempt to track down the stench.  
  
Employee number two, who from now on should just be referred to as person number two (since they're not technically employees if they don't receive wages), decided that person number one should be the bloodhound. "You've got a bigger nose" she pointed out seriously.   
  
Person number one shrugged, figuring that he could put up with a few more hours of indignity until he found a real job, and started to smell for the source of the stink. He decided that it was coming from outside the building. The two were about to open the door when suddenly; it was ripped off its hinges from outside the door.  
  
"Bingo" person number one remarked, as he noticed that the smell was much stronger now, having found its source. Person number two did not provide any input, as she was struggling to stay conscious.   
  
The pair of insubordinate volunteers looked at it. It being the thing that was standing before them. The thing being the source of the awful smell. The corpse of Bill Shakespeare was remarkably well preserved given the time between his death and his showing up at the doorstep of fanfction.net's headquarters. He retained the semblance that long ago (in a land far away), he had once been alive. But he was technically dead now, and decomposition usually equates to funky smells. His corpse was no exception.  
  
"You ingrates! I must punish everyone who makes a mockery of the great Willaim Shakespeare! Especially twelve-year-old girls who write about their crushes and claim it to be based on the story Romeo and Juliet. And we can't forget the writers of Shakespeare In Love, that movie was awful; I can't believe it won awards. They're my awards!" ranted the angry and indignant corpse.  
  
Person number two was rather puzzled. How did Sir S know about Shakespeare In Love? Did the English unearth all their famous writers and take them to the movies? Perhaps it was some type of acquired status symbol, the rich and famous dig up the corpses of famous people and wine and dine them (and treat them to a movie after). "Those English are strange, strange people" person number two thought to herself. Why was this corpse here though? She knew that there was some pretty awful writing hanging around in the Shakespeare section, but they didn't write it. Unable to understand the connection between the revenge seeking and fanfiction.net, she addressed the cadaver in the calmest tone she could muster.  
  
"Excuse me, but what does fanfiction.net have to do with your sweet sweet revenge? We aren't the authors of the fics you're angry at"   
  
"Actually, it's nothing like that. I'm just a little irked that you'd categorize fiction based on my works under books. They're not books, they're plays! It makes me really angry, especially since books suck compared to plays." The remains of the S-man replied in quite a cordial tone.  
  
Person number one managed to gain enough composure to address the carrion that stood before him. "Actually.. sir, we can fix that right now, if you'd uh.. like to give us five minutes."   
  
The reliquiae nodded what used to be a head in affirmative to the proposal and the two still living people rushed inside to create a new category. Dragging a notebook outside, they showed the cadaver their handiwork.   
  
The main page to fanfiction.net had been updated. It now read  
  
"Nov 17th, Saturday, 2001 – Due to popular demand from things unknown, all works of Shakespeare will be moved to Misc where it will be placed under plays. Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused."  
  
"Thank you very much for that clarification. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to terrorize little girls." The corpse told the persons, after reading the updated page.   
  
Person number two cheerfully waved as that mortal coil walked off into the distance. "Good luck" she yelled. "Hopefully" she thought, "he'll get the ones that post awful stories and does it five times in a row. I don't think our database deserves that type of abuse!"  
  
-  
  
Vicky, or ViCcKeEE sparkles as her profile claimed, sat in front of her computer IM-ing her 'boyfriend'. Of course, they had never IRL, but that doesn't mean hat they weren't meant for one another.   
  
"ReMeMbEr YoUrE mAH BabeE ~! I LuvVe Y0u !!!!!!!!" she typed.   
  
She was about to check if anyone had reviewed her story about two star-crossed lovers who had met over the Internet had received any reviews when a nasty odor started to waff into her room.  
  
  
  
  
(insert what you think happened afterwards here!)  
  
  
AN; hopefully, you won't take this seriously! In fact, please, please don't take this seriously! If you have read Moby Dick, and noticed what Herman Melville did with Captain Bates' name, you'd understand where I was going with the different ways of referring to Shakespeare. However, I could not think of anything quite as witty (or witty at all!) as the Master Bates reference. Hehe.. alright, flame/review as you see fit! Yeah I know it wasn't funny.. I tried ._. 


End file.
